


Wishful Welcome

by MacBeka, OKami_hu



Series: Various Welcomes [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5508728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacBeka/pseuds/MacBeka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is a Warden now, and he has a thing for Nathaniel. All it takes for them to bond is a mild existential crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The area was much like the rest of Ferelden they had crossed so far: blighted. Well, not as bad as the Anderfels, where the taint had taken root, but it was still a gruesome sight, the still-smoking remains of villages, ruins, torn up ground and corpses. So many corpses.

Anders was getting used to it, and he wasn’t sure that was a good sign. He had seen dead bodies before, but when they happened across the first child who met their bitter end in their home’s backroom, Anders staggered out of the charred cottage and sought out a sympathetic tree so he could throw up a little. Some of his companions laughed, but at nightfall, they passed him their flasks by the campfire.

Being a Grey Warden wasn’t all sunshine and buttercups. In fact, it was anything but. Still, Anders hadn’t regretted his decision. If it could be called a decision instead of his only chance of freedom.

The Blight seemed to be winding down; their team was sent back towards Ostagar to see if any darkspawn still lingered and to remedy the situation if they did. There were several skirmishes behind them, but they hadn’t wandered across a significant number of the blasted creatures, which suited them just fine. They hadn’t suffered many losses, either; two men and several injuries, that was all so far. Their swords were sharp, their arrows true, and Anders proved to be a valuable asset with both his healing and his lightning.

Oghren belched and smacked his chest with his fist. “Where’d you say we’re going?” he called ahead.

Nathaniel sighed. “For the fourth time, this is a patrol. We will come up near the Hinterlands. There's a little village called Lothering nearby the Deep Roads exit. They might have some supplies but it's doubtful; place was hit hard in the Blight. Now shut up and go back to your drink, dwarf.”

Anders tilted his head up sharply. “Lothering, you say?” He had forgotten about that… Of course, yes, the village was in that area and--

The memories assaulted him - the boyish face and wide shoulders, that bold attitude, the shyness, the enthusiasm… the moments of pleasure in those strong arms. What was his name? Gerald- No. No. Gaw- Garrett!

He remembered now. He could recall his promise too, and it sparked up a flame in his chest. Hopefully he was still alive and as handsome as ever… Anders hardly ever prayed, but he knew that tonight, he’d be pleading to Andraste that he could find the boy safe and sound. How many years had passed since? He’d be a grown man now…

“What are you looking so concerned about?” Nathaniel asked with a frown. “There won't be any Templars around, and I know that's pretty much all you're ever worried about.”

Anders fixed him with a mean look. “I’m also concerned about my cat, whom I had to leave in Amaranthine, because _some people_ just couldn’t take that he was a better person than them.” He stared into the fire. “If you must know, I have a-- friend in Lothering and I-- I hope to see him again. Alive.”

“A friend?” Nathaniel asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who do _you_ know outside the Circle? Pretty sure Circle mages don't have friends who aren't other Circle mages.”

Anders rolled his eyes with a world-weary sigh. “For the love of the Maker, Nathaniel. You forget how many times I actually ran away… I lived outside the Circle for a fair amount of time! I traveled to beautiful places! I met interesting people! Alright, I did kill a few of them, too, but my charming personality won over the others! Like-- this little trinket here…” With some trouble, he reached under his armor and pulled out a pendant.

“This I got from Bann Ferrenly. I saved his life and we became friends. A charming fellow, I must say, almost as charming as I am.”

“Sure,” Nathaniel snorted. The mage’s rambling always made good entertainment, even if they sometimes pushed the point of credibility. “And what did _this_ certain friend give you?”

Anders stopped himself in time before saying ‘something I’d gladly give to you, you sexy asshole’ and shrugged instead, hoping that the firelight was hiding his light blush.

“He was a kid-- Seventeen, maybe? But he gave me food and shelter and treated me like a normal human being.” There was no need to mention that Garrett happened to be a mage, too.

“It’s been a long time, years now. I promised I’d-- visit one day. I’d like to thank him for his help. So I’m concerned, yes. I hope he’s still alive.”

Nathaniel sobered at that and nodded slightly. “We’ll look for him and ask around. Someone must know what happened to him. It's a small village, someone will know. Don't worry.”

“Aww Nate, I knew you cared.” Anders batted his eyelashes and dodged the tin mug that was thrown at him with a laugh.

“Shut up, mage,” Nathaniel grumbled. “We’ll be in Lothering in about four days. Reckon you can hold out in your desperate concern till then?”

“Anything for you, my prince.”

Oghren guffawed and some of the others laughed along, making lewd comments. Anders shook them off like a mabari shakes off water. The constant teasing helped to hide the fact that he did find Nathaniel attractive. When he stopped frowning, and especially when he smiled or laughed, the archer was quite handsome. Anders wanted to run his fingers through that dark hair, let himself be pinned down by those calloused hands, arching up into their touches… Grey Wardens walked with death every day, they enjoyed life whenever and however they could; something Anders found relatable. Too bad Nathaniel hardly seemed interested.

Later though, back in his tent while silence settled on their camp, Anders indeed closed his eyes and prayed. _‘Let him be there. Let him be fine. Let him be alive.’_

Those four days were going to be long.

***

Nathaniel had never been so happy to see grey clouds in his life. It was foreboding and promised rain later on but it was so much better than the blank monotony of the Deep Roads, occasionally decorated with the guts of some poor person at the hands of the darkspawn.

He called a halt at the tunnel mouth and consulting his map of the area. He chewed his lip thoughtlessly as he studied it.

“Lothering’s not too far it seems,” he said. “About an hour’s walk in… that direction. Everyone, head for the designated camp spot; Anders, Oghren, Velanna and I will go to the village.”

“Just like in old times,” Anders smiled, stepping next to the archer.

Velanna snorted subtly. Back in the days when they belonged to the fabled Warden Commander’s party, the four of them did little aside snark at each other. Actually, this hadn’t changed much ever since.

“If the darkspawn decide to show their ugly mugs, send them after us!” Oghren instructed the other Wardens. “I haven’t had a good fight in a while.”

“Two days ago, you nearly lost your blighted arm!” Anders pointed out.

Nathaniel patted Anders’ shoulder. “It's no use reasoning with him. He probably doesn't even remember with how drunk he was at the time.”

“Hey!” Oghren said defensively.

“Let's just go,” Nathaniel said, rolling his eyes.

And that was how it went for four days until they arrived in Lothering. Nathaniel looked around at the devastation the Blight had caused. The brunt of the horde had hit here and it still showed.

The houses were nothing more than charred skeletons, the Chantry torn down. The smoke was still lingering and everything was barren. Nothing grew from the tainted soil and there were no settlers in sight. Everybody fled or got killed apparently, though they’ve only seen a couple of corpses.

“I don’t think we’ll be getting supplies from this place,” Velanna remarked, shivering lightly.

Anders felt nauseous. Part of him wanted to run off and find the farmhouse, but his logical mind was reminding him that he’ll find nothing at best and rotting remains at worst. If he doesn’t check, at least he can hope that the boy and his family fled and made it out, living in peace now somewhere else. He lowered his head with a shuddering sigh.

“I'm sorry, Anders,” Nathaniel said, seeing the pain on the mage’s face. “We can still look?”

Anders shook his head. “I don’t want to. If I find him dead, I’ll-” He swallowed. “I’ll just keep thinking that he survived. Thedas is big; he could be anywhere. I don’t think he’d be angry with me for not keeping my promise. I just wish… we could keep more of them.” He shook himself, but the melancholy expression remained.

“Let’s go. We have nothing to do here and we need supplies.”

“What’s with the long face? You’ve lost plenty,” Oghren remarked.

“Shut up, dwarf,” Anders mumbled without the usual fire.

“You look like you’ve lost a lover,” Velanna quipped in, expecting a retort but Anders merely shrugged.

“We could have been that. In another life.” He just felt so tired. He’d allowed himself to get his hopes up and now he felt lonely and cold. It was a stupid idea to begin with. He was a Warden, and he wouldn’t have been comfortable with the idea of Garrett becoming one as well.

Nathaniel was quiet for a moment as he tried to decide how to comfort his friend because, no matter how much they argued, that was what they were. He went to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“Come on, let's move on. Redcliffe can't be too far, and that's apparently recovered better. Shall we go see what we can get there?”

“It’s going to be about five days of travel,” Velanna remarked. “But hopefully we’ll run into a village sooner. I doubt our rations will last until Redcliffe.”

“You could try hunting?” Anders offered with a small grin. “You’re the elf.”

Velanna shoved him. “Yes, I could roast the game with a fireball!”

“Then, maybe we could send Oghren? His smell is a lethal weapon.”

“You ain’t fartin’ jasmine either, mage!”

“Yes,” Nathaniel started, “but at least it doesn't take a fortnight to get used to his stench. I do recall one of the recruits actually vomiting the first time they met you, dwarf. Lucky for us, I'm a capable hunter if it comes to that.”

Anders threw an appreciative glance at Nathaniel. They’d turned insults into an art form and they threw them against each other indiscriminately. It was nice to hear that he wasn't half as bad as Oghren; it almost counted as a compliment. It was an odd sort of camaraderie. Each of them could have killed the others countless times and cover it up easily, but they still always had each other’s backs.

“Let’s get going. We could be missing a fight,” he suggested. “We’ll be testing your hunting skills later.” He gave Nathaniel a small smile.

Nathaniel was grateful for the smile that Anders managed. “Let's go then. Maker forbid we miss a fight with common bandits. Honestly, mage, it's like you enjoy killing,” he teased with a grin before setting off.

“I was actually meaning the darkspawn,” Anders pointed out. “I think I can smell them. Well, it might be just Oghren but hark! Is that the ringing of steel that carries towards us on the ash-laden wings of the wind?”

“There’s a poet inside you,” Velanna remarked. “Very deep, buried under tons of filth and cockiness.”

Oghren grumbled loudly, but he did walk faster. The mage was making fun of him for sure, but better to be safe than sorry.

***

They did have to veer off course to secure food during the five day march to Redcliffe, but the company wasn’t starving. Small villages survived, and they were ready to offer a bit of food for the Wardens. It seemed that the Blight did a lot of good to their reputation. Not to mention the Warden-Commander.

“Well, there's something to be said for giving up a normal life in order to help the ungrateful,” Nathaniel said as he put down his mug of ale. “Who happen to be a bit more grateful than usual recently.”

Velanna came back from the bar with a scowl on his face. “There are only three rooms available, and I am _not_ sharing,” she said decisively.

“You can sleep with the horses in the stable,” Oghren offered smugly and only snickered when the elf smacked him over the head. He had a thick skull.

“I don’t think you have anything to be afraid of,” Anders mentioned. He was leaning heavily on the counter, his chin propped on his hand; he wasn’t drunk, just tired. Hope was a stubborn little worm in the human heart; it kept whispering of possibilities. Maybe some of Lothering’s residents headed for the castle. It was the strongest, most defensible spot in entire Ferelden.

“Any man who has spent ten minutes in your company would never get the urge to molest you,” he finished and grinned at Velanna, who couldn’t decide whether to take it as a compliment, or an insult.

Nathaniel practically cackled and punched Anders’ arm lightly.

“She's a lady, shouldn't insul’ her,” he slurred, falling against Anders when his hand on the table slipped. “Whoops!”

Oghren shook his head and had more ale. “Load o’ lightweights, the lot of you,” he grumbled. Years of heavy drinking had made him almost immune.

“Not everyone’s born with a tankard in their hands,” Velanna grumbled and gently pulled Nathaniel back into a straighter position.

“I’ll bunk with him,” Anders confirmed. “You two fight it out between yourselves. I’d say, Oghren should just collapse under a table. They won’t be able to rouse or shift him.”

Nathaniel snickered and nudged Velanna in amusement with a stupid grin on his face.

“From the looks of it, Howe is going to be under the table before I am,” Oghren said, gesturing to him with his mug.

“His grace will be retiring early.” Anders stood and pulled Nathaniel’s arm around his shoulder, to help him stand. “Come, you glorious leader, pride of House Howe. Mama Anders is going to put you to bed.”

Nathaniel frowned. “‘Mama Anders’?” he asked curiously. “I'm pretty sure you have a dick.”

Oghren snorted in surprise, ale going up his nose until he was spluttering and coughing. “By the Stone, Howe…”

Anders dragged the archer away with a world-weary sigh.

Upstairs in their shared room, he gently pushed Nathaniel back on the bed and began to tug his boots off. They were all accustomed to sleep in their clothes and even their armor, but in an inn, it was common courtesy to not smear mud all over the bedding.

“Seriously Nate, you’re making a fool of yourself,” Anders grumbled quietly. “Don’t drink so much when the others aren’t drunk. Senior Warden, image to keep, all that shit.”

Nathaniel snorted, stretching out on the small double bed. “It's nice, relaxing. Too much to do, all that shit like you said. I feel old,” he admitted grumpily.

Anders fell silent. He set the boots down by the foot of the bed then moved to sit next to Nathaniel. He placed his hand on the archer’s forehead before he could stop himself.

“You’re about my age… stop making me feel old as well.” His voice was soft and sad though. He knew well what the other meant. Being a Warden was a terrible burden in wartime. A lot of them sought to escape the horrors and pain they had seen and felt, one way or another.

Nathaniel sighed happily at the cool touch of Anders’ hand against his forehead and turned into it as his eyes closed.

“I don't know what to do. Everyone looks at me and thinks I know what I'm doing. Like… I have no idea. I'm carrying out the instructions the Warden-Commander left but when they're done? I haven't a clue.” He felt unfortunately sober then.

“Oh come on,” Anders scolded him gently. “You’re doing fine. You’re a noble, you’ve had training… You’re a good leader. A good friend. That matters.” He brushed away the ever-present loose strands of dark hair and let himself drift off, marveling at the proud nose and that full lower lip that made Nathaniel look like he was pouting all the time. Anders thought it was cute.

“I know it _matters_ , but is it enough? I know there's been nothing official, but Sigrun said that the recruits were asking if I was the Warden-Commander now.” He opened his eyes slowly to look up at Anders. “I'll apologize for my existential crisis in the morning,” he promised with a weak and tired smile.

“It’s alright,” Anders shrugged. “The Blight is hard on all of us. I don’t think any of us suspected it to be this taxing. Nightmares, hunger, and darkspawn blood everywhere… The tales sure don’t mention those, do they?” He chuckled. “I just hope that once it ends, it’ll be--” Warmer? Easier? Less empty and lonely, less miserable? “...Better. Maybe we could finally wrap our wounds and start to heal.”

“I hope so. I think I'm beginning to manage the nightmares a little. Unlikely, but it feels like it. I don't know what I was expecting to be honest. Well, considering I was trying to kill the Warden-Commander at the time, I don't think I was thinking at all.”

“And I had a bloodthirsty templar breathing down my neck. I’d have drank worse things than darkspawn blood to escape them.” Anders shook his head. “I did not think it through, either. None of us did. The dwarves just take it better because they had nothing to lose. I don’t think Velanna even had a vague inkling what being a Warden was about until she had the cup in her hands.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re a sorry bunch of wretches, really. It’s a miracle we’re still alive.”

Nathaniel smiled slightly. “We are. A sorry bunch of wretches that is. Let's be depressing again in the morning,” he murmured. “I'm tired.”

He rolled onto his side and curled up under the covers, and he was out like a light.

Anders toed off his own boots, then - despite his better judgement - parted from his armor, too. He wanted to be comfortable and if the darkspawn decided to show up, he could hurl lightning without the protective gear, too.

He listened to Nathaniel’s even breathing for a while, hoping that it’d lull him into a sleep. The nightmares were terrible at times and Anders realized that he was growing afraid of sleeping. If that happened, he’d have to resort to potions and they weren’t healthy in the long run.

And he was so tired and lonely. The peaceful exchange with the archer was a delight after all the snarking. He wasn’t even really throwing insults at first, he was merely joking, but the others, every single one of them carrying some sort of loss, took it the wrong way.

Nathaniel rolled over in his sleep and frowned slightly with a gentle huff. The bed was only small, not enough room for two fully grown men to remain a comfortable distance apart, so he ended up practically lying on Anders’ shoulder.

The mage rolled his eyes. “You damn bastard,” he murmured as he turned just a little and cautiously curled up against his companion. The hurt eased a little bit now that there was someone next to him. “Why don’t you just fuck me already?” He blinked the tears away from his eyes and let himself relax. He needed some sleep.

***

Nathaniel slept through, still with drunkenness. When he woke, he was in the same position. He woke slowly from his mercifully dreamless sleep, rubbing his cheek against the warm softness underneath him. He opened his eyes slowly and froze at the sight of a bare chest, dotted lightly with hair.

Anders was still sleeping, his brow creased slightly that made him look worried. During the night, he’d flung one arm over the archer’s waist and he curled up a little, trying to soak up the other’s warmth.

Nathaniel couldn't help but admit that having the arm over him was… nice. He was warmer than he was expecting and it was obviously due to Anders. The line of his body against his was also… nice. He couldn't think of any other word for it that didn't make this sappy and awkward. He wanted to pull away, for propriety's sake, but he didn't want to because… Well, because Anders was so damned attractive.

The growing light eventually roused the mage, too. Caught between the Fade and reality, Anders smiled and sighed, moving even closer; then he opened his eyes and the breath caught in his throat. He tensed up and Nathaniel could almost hear the rapid beating of his heart.

“Well, this is awkward,” the healer muttered, but he didn’t move much - Maker knew why.

“A bit, yeah,” Nathaniel agreed. “I, uh… Thank you, for listening to me last night. Sorry about that.”

Nathaniel pulled away now, fighting down the reluctance. Having a body pressed against his was something he'd missed while in the Wardens. Better yet, a sweaty, writhing body with lean muscles and a clawing grip and– Yeah, it was best not to begin associating those things with Anders.

“It’s nothing. Um. Hey, listen-” Anders grabbed the archer’s arm and ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. “How about we cut back on the insults…? We’re both grown men, and this snarking is childish. I honestly never meant to insult you… I’m not sorry for being the sunshine in the team of gloom, but--” He took a deep breath. “You’re a friend, and if you need someone to talk to, I’m here and I’ll keep your secrets. Mages are good with that.” He flashed a mischievous grin at his companion.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at the cheeky grin. “I'd like that, even if your smile makes me want to say no.”

Said smile immediately vanished and Anders looked hurt for a moment. He got up without a word and began to dress.

Nathaniel groaned in frustration and buried his face in his hands.

“Anders, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know,” the mage replied softly, straightening his tabard. “It’s just that you have no idea how mages live and what kind of things we keep in secret. Like lovers, affairs, each other’s kinks and weaknesses. We get really good at it, because those secrets are weapons in the templars’ possession.” He turned and smoothed his hair back with a tiny smile. “So when I say I’ll keep a secret, I mean it. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I tend to grin like a maniac most of the time. I’m the sunny one of the group. I know it gets on your nerves, but try to- I don’t know, perhaps ignore it?”

“Alright. I'll try to have less of the doom and gloom as well. It is a true maniac grin though,” the archer teased.

“No, it’s not.” Anders grabbed his staff and flipped his hair with the arrogant elegance of an Orlesian noble. “You just think it is because nobody ever smiles around you.” The next moment, it hit him that - based on what he knew about Nathaniel’s past - it wasn’t that far from the truth.

Nathaniel snorted, oblivious to the mage's internal realization.

“You keep thinking that.”

He dressed, tidying up the room automatically. It never went down well, leaving a room in a state.

When they went down to join the others, Velanna and Oghren were already there, the elf munching on an apple and the dwarf gulping down ale - as per usual. She smirked at them.

“Had a lovely night I suppose? I hope you haven’t destroyed anything.”

“How about you and Oghren?” Anders asked back with a pleasant smile, then stepped closer and held up a hand before Velanna could have retorted. “Calm down, it was a joke, even if not a good one. Listen, I know you don’t like humans and you particularly don’t like me, but maybe we could try to be more civil with each other? We’re behaving like children. I don’t even mean to be offensive.” He leaned closer to whisper something into her ears

Velanna promptly slapped him, though not with full force. Anders pressed a hand against his face. “I can’t say I did not expect it… But believe it or not, I really mean it.” He headed out, shoulders sagging.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “What the hell did you say to her?” he asked.

“Probably confessed his undying love to her,” Oghren teased with a wink and a cackle.

Nate smacked the back of his head. “Don't be stupid, dwarf.”

Velanna glared at them. “We have things to do, places to be, let’s go. Stop wasting everybody’s time!” She hurried out. 

Nathaniel frowned after her and raised an eyebrow briefly at Anders before deciding it was likely best left alone.

“Let's follow the witch’s lead then,” he grumbled, gesturing towards the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The party continued their way toward Redcliffe in an interesting mood. Nobody was really talking to anybody else; Anders felt the least inclined to chat after their next stop. He had a nasty nightmare that showed him Garrett, as young and innocent as he remembered him getting torn apart my darkspawn. It really didn’t help. At this point, Anders just wanted to know if the boy was alive and as they neared Redcliffe, he found himself hoping to see him there, no matter how he kept telling himself that there was a meager chance for that.

They were about a day’s walk from the village, settling down for the night. A fire was lit, tents raised, the last of their rations laid out; with a little luck, there will be fresh food for the next dinner. The mood eased just a little as flasks and canteens passed around.

Against all logic, it was Oghren, who sensed the looming threat. He fell silent and pulled his weapon forth, growling. By the time he spoke up, Velanna was perking as well, staring into the darkness with keen eyes. 

“Darkspawn!” Oghren growled. The team instantly fell into formation, the mages and Nathaniel in the middle, the others protecting them. 

The abominable creatures launched their attack so suddenly, Anders couldn’t keep down a yelp. He covered it with a spell that threw one of the advancing creatures backwards. It seemed they’d crossed the path of a larger group lurking around - but every Grey Warden was worth twenty darkspawn at least. 

Nathaniel grabbed his bow and ran up to the outcropping above their little camp. From there he could see everything and it was easy to aim for the darkspawn causing the most trouble. His bow - his grandfather’s bow - sent the arrows flying with enough force to pierce armour. When there was a decent amount of space between the others and the line of darkspawn, he aimed for the archers, their distance making it a bit more difficult to get a successful hit first time. 

It quickly became apparent that the chances were even, and the scale was steadily tipping in the Wardens’ favor. Oghren was practically unstoppable, Velanna and Anders worked well together and the rest pulled their weights bravely. The battle was dragging out because of the sheer numbers of the attackers. 

“You’re looking real fine, raining fiery death on the enemy,” Anders teased the elf, who laughed. 

“Watch your ass, my staff might end up in it, you two-timer.” Anders laughed as well and hurled lightning at an advancing hurlock. His laughter died though as the recruit in front of him collapsed with a grunt; an arrow was sticking out of his chest, which had managed to penetrate his armor. 

More arrows came and Anders promptly kicked out Velanna’s knees, turning to shield her from harm. It cost him dearly; one projectile nicked his cheekbone - he was lucky that the fletching didn’t take out his eye - and he got another into his left shoulder. The tip penetrated the brigandine but Andraste was kind and it didn’t wedge into Anders’ flesh fully. 

He gritted his teeth against the pain and ripped the arrow out of himself, cursing. “Nathaniel! A little help with those bastards?!”

Nathaniel swore and drew back his bowstring as far as he could before releasing it. The force of the arrow sent it right through the darkspawn’s armour. He repeated the action until the group causing the most trouble was dead. He aimed for the hurlock alpha running towards the mages. He released arrow after arrow, but it was only enough to slow it, he just hoped either Velanna or Anders had enough mana left to deal with it, even as he keep firing. 

The elf recovered from the shock. She seemed quite furious, and since she couldn’t direct it to Anders, she aimed at the darkspawn. A massive fist made of stone appeared and it slammed into the hurlock, crushing it, and wounding several others. 

The battle’s outcome was decided with the blow. Oghren and the recruits charged at the remaining darkspawn, even the one who was shot - Anders, while his shoulder still bled, picked the arrow from the young man’s chest and healed him. 

Picking off the croaking genlocks from his vantage point became an easy job for Nathaniel. He only had to be cautious not to shoot one of his comrades by accident; things got a little chaotic down there. 

That was probably why he never noticed the shriek creeping up on him, until it was too late.

He had relaxed, dropping his arm to his side as he looked over the battlefield. When he felt envenomed claws dig into his sides through his armor, he screamed and fell to his knees. He managed to grab his knife with shaky hands and thrust it into the shriek with the last of his strength. 

Anders tilted his head up at the scream just in time to see both attacker and victim fall. His eyes widened. 

“Nathaniel!” He launched into a run, up to the outcrop to save the archer. If the shriek was only wounded, it could finish its target easily and even if it was dead… Nathaniel could have done well with a little healing magic, most probably. 

The short run seemed too long, but at least the shriek, while not dead, was incapacitated, writhing in agony on the ground; Anders, in a fit of rage mercilessly stomped down on its neck to finish the job. Then he kneeled down next to the archer, assessing the damage. “Nathaniel? Can you hear me? I’m here, hold on, you’ll be fine in a minute.” The healing spell flared up in his hands.

Nathaniel whimpered softly as the thrum of gentle magic flowed through his veins. His armor was wet and his tunic was sticking to his sides. He felt his eyes close and he forced them open again, looking blankly up at Anders as he tried to focus past the quick blood loss and shock. 

“Seriously now, you drank that blighted blood so you won’t be a wimp,” Anders scowled at him and poured more energy into the spell, to make sure the poison drained and the flesh closed. “If you want to win my affections, you really don’t need to resort to such dirty tactics.”

Nathaniel laughed weakly, wincing at the pain it caused. 

“Have to… Try harder,” he said, grinning through the pain. 

“No, no you don’t,” Anders muttered, mostly to himself. The injury was serious; it was a miracle Nathaniel was able to stab his assailant at all, with both his lungs damaged. Anders let his eyes drift shut and he concentrated, calling spirits to his aid. 

It figured that he was a Spirit Healer; the most loved and most feared type of mage of all. They literally drew their strength from the Fade’s residents and that alarmed the Chantry a great deal, suspecting them of cohorting with demons. Anders always took pride in his calling.

The restorative spell slowly swept over damaged tissue and as the archer drew breath, the pain lessened. The poison was neutralized in his bloodstream.

When Nathaniel could breathe without agony, he let his eyes close. 

“Thank you…” he murmured. 

There were many times when Anders had healed him, but it was mostly scrapes and small cuts; he was an archer, he stayed away from the main battle and that meant he wasn't injured as often. It had never been as serious as this. Not for the first time, he admired Anders’ skill and power. 

“Now I can finally take care of myself,” Anders sighed and another healing spell flickered to life in his hand. 

His shoulder ached with a constant, dull pain, the blood from the puncture staining his clothes. He knew his face was bloodied too, but at least the shallow cut already stopped bleeding on his cheek. Not that he planned on leaving it like that; he would’ve hated to have scars, especially on his face. 

The spirits were benevolent and the pain stopped. Anders tried his shoulder and smiled triumphantly; then he almost absent-mindedly swept his thumb over the cut. The skin closed immediately without a mark. 

“Now we can talk.”

Nathaniel laughed slightly and let his head fall back against the packed-down earth with a slight thud. He was tired; mortal injuries would do that to a man. 

“Nice weather we’re having,” he said with a grin. 

“Mm, yes. The others are faring well, too,” Anders peered down at the battle. “I kicked Velanna. Would you like to elope with me, perhaps to Kirkwall? They say the weather’s great this time of the year.”

“Buy me dinner first,” Nathaniel chuckled slightly, not entirely joking. 

“As soon as I get paid.” Anders moved closer and attempted to pull the archer up. “Come. It’s not nice to leave the battle before it’s officially over.”

Nathaniel winced automatically, slightly surprised that there was no pain to the movement. Anders really was brilliant. 

“Let's go down there then.”

By the time they walked back, the battle was over; the remaining darkspawn turned tails and ran. The Wardens didn’t give chase; it was a small team, splitting up would’ve been a tactical mistake. Oghren had a few light wounds and one recruit was sitting with his back against a tree, pale and gasping, but with a flask in his hand. Velanna was just wrapping up the healing.

“Took you long enough,” she pouted at the returning men. “Leaving all the work to a lady.” She snorted at her joke; Nathaniel kept calling her that and she always bristled. 

“Next time, just tell me to duck,” she turned to Anders, who pulled his head between his shoulders. “But thank you.”

Anders smiled and nodded.

Nathaniel dropped to sit down on the packed earth with a groan. He was tired and his shoulders hurt from pulling back his bow so much. While it was a fantastic bow, the strength required to use it was almost too much. 

“Alright, party’s over!” Oghren announced loudly. “Back to the tents and sleep, kiddos. Except for you and me.” He pointed out a recruit who seemed still steady on his feet. “Guard duty. Tomorrow, we’re supposed to reach some town.”

Velanna patted her comrades’ shoulders and walked off. The recruits followed her example, the appointed guard settling down by the fire. Anders ran a hand down Nathaniel’s arm. 

“Get some rest. We’ll be marching all day.”

***

They indeed did march all day, but at least undisturbed. The pace was brisk enough; by sundown, they reached Redcliffe village. It was not long ago that the Warden Commander had been here, saving the villagers and the Arl himself, so the small party met only silent awe and approval. 

The inn was mostly empty, and the keeper generously offered all his free rooms and plenty of hot water. Velanna accepted it immediately, but she cleverly asked for it to be carried to her room; she wasn’t keen on sharing the bathchamber with half a dozen men. 

There were three tubs, each in a small room; the entrance was covered only by a heavy curtain, but it offered some privacy as well as the noise of the inn from above and the conversation of the recruits in the other rooms as they made use of the bath they’d been longing for all week.

Nathaniel climbed into one and sighed at the hot water. He wanted to sink into it and enjoy it like he'd been able to before his father had helped a man commit treason, but he was a Warden now; there was no time for relaxing and enjoying a bath. He scrubbed himself clean with a rough sponge, washing his hair with the soap. 

He had only been in the water for a few minutes before he was climbing out again, clean but not relaxed. 

The curtain drew away unexpectedly and Anders entered. For a moment, he seemed surprised, then he grinned.

“My, Nathaniel, finished so soon? You didn’t even wait for me! And you dirtied the water.” Perfectly calmly, he strolled in and began to undress. 

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak before Anders started undressing. At that point, he closed it with a clack of his teeth. He couldn't help but look the mage up and down slowly, admiring the long lines of his muscles and the way he moved effortlessly. His feet were stuck, unable to move and embarrassed at his nakedness. 

Anders shod his armor and stretched with a delighted moan, then simply continued, paying no heed to his comrade’s plight. 

“Is the water hot still?” he chatted. “I feel so blighted filthy. One week in the wilderness without a decent wash, Maker…! We must reek. We just don’t feel it because we’re used to it.” His shirt came off, revealing smooth skin. His chest was hairless and unmarred. 

“I just want to relax and soak for an hour. Y’know, I was definitely not fond of the Circle, but damn… We had a wonderful bath chamber. Scented steam, liquid soap, always some company to help with the hard to reach places…” He threw his head back and laughed. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just teasing.” His pants fell, followed immediately by the underwear and Anders was naked and pale and truth be told, rather handsome. He tugged the tie from his hair, letting the red-gold strands fall about his shoulder. 

“Oh come on,” he said softly. “It’s not the first time you’ve seen me naked.” 

It was true; they’d spent months in each other’s company, and they’d taken baths together at streams and ponds before.

“Yeah but…” Nathaniel started defensively, unsure what he was trying to say. “Well, whatever.” 

He pointedly did not look at Anders again as he dressed, drying himself quickly so his clothes were still a little difficult to pull on. He didn't want to be distracted by the mage’s hair or his perfect chest or his pointed hipbones that just begged to be grabbed and-- He stopped that thought right there. 

Anders on the other hand was throwing glances at his comrade; he wasn’t exactly leering but came quite close to it. The archer had a damn fine body. However, the promise of finally getting clean was also a strong call and Anders focused on the water. It was indeed dirty and lukewarm at best, but he had magic. Dipping his hands into the water, he concentrated and three heartbeats later, filth and soap disappeared, leaving crystal clear liquid behind. A few more deep breaths and it was steaming too, heated by a simple spell. Anders laughed under his breath. He actually liked to do magic, tug the unseen strings of power to accomplish impossible feats - and these were simple spells, something apprentices used to practice. 

He promptly climbed in and sank under the surface until he was submerged to the top of his shoulders. He couldn’t help the delighted moan escaping; it was bliss, even though he had to pull his legs up a bit to fit inside. Anders closed his eyes and tipped his head back, smiling brightly. 

“Andraste’s rosy tits, I missed this. I think I’m going to sleep here. Nngh, so relaxing… I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry.” 

“Others need to bathe too,” he said simply, trying his best to ignore the rapid beating of his heart caused by Anders’ moans. 

He liked how Anders enjoyed magic, how he found joy in the simple things that he could do with nothing more than a wave of his hand. 

“I'll see you later,” he said, dressed again. 

“Mmm.” Anders bit the inside of his lips and waited until the archer was out. Then, he took a deep breath and sank under the surface. 

The water drowned out the noise and it embraced him gently. It was so serene, so peaceful. No worries and regrets, just comfortable warmth and soft waves caressing his forehead. Maybe death was like this, the end of all misery.

But the final rest was not something Anders ever sought; he had things to do. Justice will be waiting once they return to Amaranthine and together they will help mages. Anders sat up, smoothed his hair back and began to clean up in earnest. When he focused on something else, he could forget about his own misery. 

He still took his time to enjoy the simple luxury, and made sure to leave the tiny bathroom clean once he left. Others might have wanted a bath too, and there was no reason to trouble the maids more than necessary. 

He was sharing a room with Nathaniel again, but this time, they had their own beds. Not that Anders would have minded to wake next to a handsome man, but Nathaniel obviously wasn’t interested. It was fine; not everyone was. It didn’t stop the slight ache, though. 

Anders opened the door carefully, not wanting to disturb his comrade, if he was already sleeping. 

Nathaniel was trying to sleep, lying on his front in his smalls, but he was plagued by the memory of Anders in the bath. He'd looked so… _content_. And hot, and gorgeous, couldn't forget those, of course. 

He heard the door open and tightened his arms around the pillow he was lying on. He didn't think he could take much more flirting before he snapped and threw himself at the mage. 

Anders simply assumed his comrade was out. He tiptoed to his own bed and stripped as well - finally being able to sleep without clothes was a bliss, and he was not about to miss it.

He pulled the covers up to his ears with a contented sigh and closed his eyes. His thoughts, however, didn’t let him drift off into sleep. His heart started to beat a little faster when he remembered that tomorrow, he’d have a little time to look around, ask around… possibly find at least a trace of Garrett. Even though it was a foolish hope, it persisted. Then his mind jumped to another fried, Karl… the soft-spoken man he so adored back at Kinloch, with warm hands and kisses that tasted sweeter than sugar… And his comrade sleeping on the other bed, all lean muscle and that peculiar noble rogue attitude.

Loneliness hit him like a collapsing tunnel down the Deep roads. First, there were tears, but he wasn’t able to keep down the inevitable soft hiccups as misery washed over him, so cold after the warm water. Anders curled up and cried. Maybe the tears will even help, he thought idly. Maybe they will run out eventually. 

Nathaniel’s stomach clenched and his heart aches when he heard Anders begin to cry. What was he supposed to do? Anders clearly thought him asleep, but he could hardly leave the mage distraught like that. It wasn't in his nature, to leave people to hurt like that, and it was cruel anyway. Not when he could try to help. 

He stood quietly and went over to Anders’ bed. He slipped underneath the cover behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him close. Pressed skin against skin with Anders was warm and comfortable, would have been sexy in any other situation, but this was about comfort. 

“Hush, Anders,” Nathaniel said softly, hooking his chin over the mage’s shoulder. 

The soft noises didn’t even penetrate the sound of blood rushing in his ears first, but the touch was hard to ignore; Anders’ eyes shot open and he froze, expecting-- something bad. Violence, mockery, some sort of abuse, but it never came. It was just warmth, the sorely missed feeling of someone close, so close, and while the archer meant the gesture to be innocent, pleasure twisted Anders’ guts painfully. It was an exquisite pain though that made him shudder and gasp.

“N-Nate, what- are you doing…?” he questioned, almost panicked. His body was screaming for something wild and hot but Anders didn’t act on the call. He didn’t want to scare his friend off. 

“Would you rather I returned to my own bed…?” Nathaniel asked uncertainly. Perhaps this wasn't as welcome as he had thought. “I only meant… I heard you crying. I thought maybe I could help.” 

Anders grabbed the archer’s wrist, trying to hold him there. For a moment, he was sure that if Nathaniel left, he’d just die. 

“I-it’s fine! I- um-” he gulped. “I appreciate your concern. Thank you.” He relaxed a bit, eyes drifting shut as he soaked up the heat from the body pressing into his. “You’re a nice guy… Despite your usual attitude. Nice and kind.” His breath shuddered. “I bet the ladies just fall at your feet wherever you go.”

Nathaniel smiled slightly against Anders’ shoulder. “I don't know about _fall_ … I don't know about just ladies either,” he said with a quiet chuckle, part of him hoping that Anders wouldn't hear him; the heat and pressure against his skin was too comforting to risk losing by saying something stupid. 

“Wait, what?” Anders turned halfway, sticking his elbow into the archer’s side in the process. “You’re into guys as well?!” He narrowed his eyes. “Was that some sort of smug observation about your own blighted handsomeness or a smug remark about specifically- ahem, someone in the company forgetting their eyes on your tight backside…?” It made sense in his head, he just hoped it’ll make sense for Nathaniel, too, without sounding too desperate.

Nathaniel frowned. “Who?” he asked; he hadn't noticed anyone staring at him, but perhaps they were just being sneaky. His heart leapt momentarily at the thought that Anders might mean himself, but he squashed the feeling, not wanting to get his hopes up. 

Anders flopped back on his side and curled up into a ball. It was a reasonable move when one hoped to minimize the damage taken. 

“This might ruin everything, possibly land me in Weisshaupt making elfroot potions and for the sweet mercy of Andraste, at least wait until the morning to beat me up if you feel like it but-” He heaved a deep sigh. “I happen to think that you have a gorgeous ass.” There, he said it. Now it was either a beating or the best night of the last few years. 

Nathaniel’s breathing stopped. He was pretty sure his heart had stopped with shock and surprise and _joy_. 

“You… do?” he asked, barely above a breath. 

He moved closer to Anders again, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and pressing his cheek against his back. 

“Anders… I couldn't hurt you.”

“The fuck you can’t. You threw your mug at me a week ago. Maker’s breath, Nathaniel, _I have a boner_. This is serious!” Anders laughed a little, partially out of misery. “If you’re not willing to-- do _something_ , then-- just go back to your bed and let me die here quietly.”

“That was different,” Nate said plaintively. “I couldn't beat you up, like you were saying.” He couldn't help his snorted laughter and the bite of his lip. “ _Very_ serious,” he said, managing not to laugh too much. “With your permission, I would like to… help, with that.”

Anders quieted at that. He just wanted some company and whether his comrade made the offer out of attraction or simple battlefield camaraderie have ceased to matter. He just wanted someone else’s touch, someone else’s hand on his heated flesh.

He took Nathaniel’s hand and slowly guided it down over his stomach, between his thighs where his erection was straining against the fabric of his smalls. His breath hitched as he involuntarily rolled his hips, pressing himself into the archer’s palm.

“Help will be- very much appreciated,” Anders breathed. “Please help me.” 

Nathaniel slipped his hand into Anders’ smalls, rubbing him for a moment before he wrapped his hand around his cock to stroke him slowly. The weight of the mage’s length in his hand felt good. His cheek had settled on Anders’ shoulder and he turned his face to kiss his skin. 

The response was rather enthusiastic. Anders all but melted, muscles relaxing, head tipping back slightly. His fingers didn’t leave the hand stroking him but massaged it gently, mutely encouraging Nathaniel. 

He couldn’t stay silent either; first a shuddering gasp escaped him, then a moan which turned into a series of little whimpers.

“Th-that feels so good…” Anders gasped, leaning into the kiss. “It’s been a while… Nnnh, Nathaniel...! Your hands are _perfect_...!”

Nathaniel’s breath caught in his throat at the sounds of Anders’ whimpers and moans and he wanted more. He moved his other hand, reaching down to play with the mage’s balls through his smalls. He rolled them and tugged gently, kissing along his shoulders the whole time. 

“How's that?” he asked quietly. 

Anders pressed his lips together and even bit them to keep down the noises but he was the vocal type, much to the archer’s delight. Anders wiggled a little, to find an even better position and he reached back, to dig his fingers into the tight backside he admired so much. 

“N-Nathaniel…! I- aah- Do you need- my hand or something, anything?” He paused. “Maker, this is new. It used to be me who took control...”

“Just let me take care of you,” Nate murmured, scraping his teeth lightly against the shell of his ear. “Just relax.”

He wanted this to be about Anders, about his release and comfort and relaxation, but he couldn't help the slight little thrusts of his hips against his ass, breathing picking up a little. 

“Alright, but- Oh blight it.” Anders pressed into the thrusts, chewing on his knuckles. His body was on fire and he loved it.

“I don’t care why you decided to do this for me but-- Nathaniel, if you ever want to fuck me, just say the word. You have no idea what sort of fantasies I’ve had with you and-- Maker, if you need your cock sucked at the end of the day, just whistle. And please, don’t stop until I come, no matter how weirded out you probably are at the moment…” Teachers back at Kinloch always told Anders that his big mouth will be his downfall. They were probably right.

“Fuck,” Nate gasped, hips jerking with the images Anders words conjured. “Tell me what you think about. Do you jerk off and think of me, or do you go further?” 

Anders may be able to talk the ear off a village gossip, but Nathaniel could play too. 

“Just think of you?” Anders laughed and moaned as Nathaniel found a really good spot. “Just picturing you being pretty would be a wasted opportunity… You’ve had me so many times, in my head. Against a tree, down in the Deep Roads… Once, templars caught me and you came to my rescue... “ He absolutely couldn’t help the giggle. “That was really nice of you. I complained of the cold and you said you’ll give me something that’d warm me up…” He fell silent for a few moments. 

“I jerk off, yes… hard to do anything else with others being near but a few times… I fingered myself.” His voice dropped to a whisper, but not as much to be inaudible. 

“I wouldn't let the Templars catch you in the first place,” Nathaniel said, sucking a bruise against his shoulder, where armour would cover entirely. “How did you do it? Were you on your front with your ass in the air?” He released his cock briefly to grab his ass firmly, fingers digging in. “Or were you on your back to spread your legs as far as possible.”

“S-sitting on my heels,” Anders supplied, probably far more eagerly than it was polite. “Thighs spread, hem of the tabard between my teeth--- that thing’s a real bother.” He tried to glance at his companion over his shoulder. 

“Oghren almost caught me, thank Andraste he’s basically unable to walk quietly… But I just had to. I didn’t matter that we were making our way through the darkspawn-infested woods… I had to.” He licked his lips. “I like my ass up in the air though. I’ve been told I look good like that.”

“I bet you do,” he groaned. “Perfect angle to grab your hips and push your shoulders down and just _fuck_ you until you come without a touch to your cock.” 

Nathaniel was rutting almost madly against his ass now, breathing heavily. He hoped Anders was close; he wanted to see his face as he came, and then finish himself off because his skin was aching with lust. 

“I _love_ that...!” Anders was panting and gasping, probably nearing the peak fast. “A little harder, Nathaniel, please, please…!” His back was arching, toes curling; He reached back to hold onto the archer, all the while restlessly wiggling, trying to get more of the wonderful sensations assaulting him from both sides.

He tightened his fist and sped up his thrusts, watching Anders raptly. He was beautiful normally, but like this he was irresistible. Nate turned the mage’s head and kissed him firmly, with a tentative undertone to it. He should have asked, but it was spur of the moment, and he pulled back as soon as he realized. 

Except that Anders didn’t let him. He wrenched Nathaniel’s head back and kissed him as if the Blight had just started and these were their last minutes. He moaned into the kiss, too, desperate little mewls reverberating in his thought until his body went rigid and he came, his seed drenching the archer’s hand. 

Nathaniel moaned against his mouth, at the hand in his hair, the little noises, the wetness over his hand, and pulled back to shove his smalls down and fist his own cock, moving quickly. 

With a lot of effort, Anders turned once he was released and now he was marveling at the beautiful sight. He laid his head on the archer’s shoulder and teasingly dragged a finger over his front.

“Thank you so much,” he whispered and his hand sneaked even lower, to find the balls.

Nate moaned, arching to press his balls closer to the warmth of Anders’ hand. He grasped Anders’ hair and lifted his head slightly to kiss him again, sucking on his lower lip and pushing his tongue into his mouth. He was getting close, thighs trembling with how close he was. 

Again, the healer just moved into the contact,. His tongue entwined with Nathaniel’s and his fingers rolled the testicles gently. Anders was not selfish; now that he was helped, he was ready to repay a comrade’s kindness. 

“Come for me,” he whispered between two kisses. “Nathaniel, let me see. Please let me.”

Nate couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd tried as he came with a soft cry, arching and releasing over his hand and stomach, adding to the mess Anders had left on his palm. 

He was drawn into a warm embrace. Anders apparently liked to cuddle. He gently swept the stray strands of hair out on Nate’s face and dropped a few small kisses on the proud nose and those pouty lips. 

“This was absolutely delightful,” he concluded. “I’m not making demands of course, but if, perchance you’d like to repeat it… I’m game.”

Nathaniel grinned and leaned close to kiss him gently. “Is that answer enough?” he asked, smiling almost sweetly, shyly. “Sleep, Anders.”

“Yessir.” Anders obediently closed his eyes and let exhaustion take over. He was still going to look for the Lothering farm boy, that went without saying. And even though young Garrett ceased to be an option once Anders drained the Cup of Joining, at least he wasn’t alone anymore.


End file.
